steamy nights with the rival captain

ONE FAST NIGHT

~~KIRA ~~

My chest burns as the shock hits me.

"Sorry!" I say, dropping my voice low as I step back.

They both scramble across the couch to grab their clothes. Chloe yanks a pillow over her chest and glares at me. "Why didn't you knock?"

"I did," I say, keeping my eyes on the floor. "You were too busy to hear."

Jax pulls on a pair of sweatpants, unbothered. He points across the living room. "The room on the right is yours."

I nod and head straight for the bedroom.

Behind me, Chloe lowers her voice. "Who is he?"

"Leo, the new walk-on for the Frost," Jax answers.

"How long is he staying?"

"Until the complex renovation finishes, I guess."

I reach my room and shut the door behind me.

Sitting on the mattress, my dad's words echo in my head. "We all know why you haven't gone on a single date in the last three years."

A loud moan booms again from Jax's bedroom. They're so disgusting. They didn't stop—they just switched rooms.

Anger takes over. They have zero respect for my presence.

I grab a dress and other items, stuffing them inside a smaller bag. I walk out of the house, slamming the front door.

I get into my car and speed down the street.

As I drive, I can't stop thinking about what just happened back at the house. I hate that I let him get to me. I hate that my family thinks I'm still in love with a guy who dumped me three years ago.

Minutes later, I pull into a quiet parking space behind an empty store and stop the car.

I move into the back seat to change. Pulling a pack of wipes from my bag, I start scrubbing the fake jawline makeup off my skin. It stings a little, but seeing the dark contour wash away feels like a relief. I was so proud of that disguise earlier today. Now, wiping it off, I just feel exhausted.

I pull off the oversized hoodie and put on the red dress I packed. My hands are shaking a bit as I do up the zipper. I keep remembering my dad asking why I haven't dated anyone since Jax. He thought it was heartbreak, but the truth is I've just been working myself to the bone trying to pay his bills.

I slide my feet into heels, uncork my lipstick, and drag it across my lips.

I don't care about Jax anymore.

I climb back in the car and zoom off.

A few minutes later, I hand my keys to the valet outside the sports arena club and head inside. I head straight to the bar, finding a high stool.

"Give me a shot," I tell the bartender.

He pours a clear drink and slides it over. I knock it back in one gulp. The burn in my throat hits immediately, but it's better than feeling miserable. I tap the glass against the counter. "Another one."

I need to forget the image of Jax on that couch. I need to stop feeling like the loser in my own life.

The bartender fills another glass. I reach out to grab it, but before my fingers even touch the rim, a hand reaches in from the side and snatches it away.

I snap my head around.

A tall guy stands next to my stool, holding my drink up in the air, looking down at me with a calm expression.

"I've been watching you from the corner," he says. "This is your sixth shot. Give it a break."

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" I snap, reaching out and snatching the glass back from his grip.

Before I can even bring it to my lips, he reaches in and grabs it out of my hand again.

I stare at him, stunned. "What audacity you have?"

"Just stop whatever it is," he says, holding the glass completely out of my reach. "Drinking this many shots isn't going to fix anything. You might as well just talk it out with somebody."

I glare up at him. Who does this dude think he is?

I sigh, rolling my eyes. "Fine. Just let me have this last shot."

He hesitates for a second, looking down at me, before finally handing the small glass over.

I toss my head back and down the liquid in one go. It stings the back of my throat, making me wince as the burn settles in my chest. I set the empty glass down hard on the counter.

He leans against the bar beside me, watching me closely. "So... what's making you drink this much?"

I laugh, looking at him as I rest my elbow on the bar. "Do you really want to know?"

"Of course I do," he says. His voice is deep and completely grounded. "If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked."

I observe him for a second, noticing the broad build of his shoulders and the way he stands. He kind of looks like an athlete.

"I just moved in with my ex," I tell him, the words slipping out easier than I expected. "Waiter, pour me another drink."

"I thought we agreed," he says, eyeing the bartender. "No more drinks."

I laugh softly, waving my hand. "Just one more won't hurt."

He pauses for a long second, looking down at me. With a quiet sigh, he shakes his head, then nods to the bartender to fill my glass again.

The bartender pours another drink, sliding it across the counter. I smile and pick it up.

"And guess what happened when I moved in?" I ask, leaning closer.

"What?" he asks, his deep voice rumbling.

"He was making out with his new girl," I say, bursting into a loud laugh.

He looks at me, obviously confused, probably trying to figure out why I'm laughing about something that clearly hurt me.

"Bartender! Another one!" I call out, tapping the counter.

"Alright, enough," he says.

Before I can protest, he reaches over and grabs my hand. I resist, stretching my arms out toward the bar, but it doesn't do any good. He scoops me off the ground and carries me in his arms.

I look up into his eyes, placing my hands against his chest as he walks toward a quiet room away from the main bar. "Where are you taking me?"

"Away from the drinks," he says softly.

I smile, looking up at him. "You're such a gentleman."

"My mom tells me that too," he replies with a faint smirk.

He carries me inside the room and lays me down gently on the bed.

My hands are still wrapped around his neck as I lie on the bed. Looking up into his eyes, the memory of what Dad said flashes in my mind again, so painful.

Before I can stop myself, I pull him in, crashing my lips into his.

He tries to pull back, his hands gently holding my shoulders. "Hey... slow down," he says. "I didn't bring you here for this. Let's talk."

My eyes grow teary, the alcohol losing its edge as I struggle to hold back my tears.

"I don't want to talk."

I reach up and pull him down again, pressing my lips into his. This time, he doesn't pull away. He deepens the kiss, his lips moving against mine as the tension between us snaps.

My fingers move to his chest, quickly unbuttoning his shirt. I push the shirt off his shoulders and press my lips against his chest.

He groans, his hands sliding down to the hem of my red dress. With smooth movements, he slips the dress off.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, pausing to look down into my eyes.

"Yes," I whisper, trying so hard to keep my eyes open. "I'm absolutely sure."